I Was the One They Were Willing to Lose Chapter 09

I Was the One They Were Willing to Lose Chapter 09

Junior year, I got a spot in an international exchange fellowship.

Before I left, Mom came to visit me at school alone for the first time.

Three years had passed, and she’d aged-a few strands of gray at her temples now.

She didn’t try to talk me into coming home this time. Didn’t bring up Poppy or the three boys either

She just followed me around the lab, watching as I walked her through the equipment and my

research.

At the honors wall, she caught sight of my photo-me standing in the middle of my team, holding a competition trophy.

She stood there a long time, looking up at it.

“You always used to love standing right in the middle when you won something, when you were

little.”

I hadn’t expected her to remember that.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Because I had to make room for someone else.”

Her eyes went red instantly.

That night, she helped me pack.

Clothes, documents-she double-checked every single item.

Near the end, she pulled a box out of her bag.

Inside was the same model as the telescope I’d had as a kid-the one that got sold.

Not the original one, of course. Just the same model.

“I looked for a long time. They’d discontinued it. I bought this one off a collector.”

I ran a hand over the worn barrel and didn’t take it.

“I have better equipment now.”

Her hand trembled slightly. “I know.”

“I just wanted you to know–I remembered.”

I looked at her reddened eyes, and this time, I didn’t push the box back.

But I didn’t fall into her arms the way she was hoping, either.

A late repair isn’t meaningless.

It can prove she finally understood where she went wrong.

But it couldn’t turn me back into the little girl who’d throw herself into her mother’s arms over a

telescope.

I saw her off at the airport, and we ran into Griffin.

He looked steadier than before, more composed, pulling a suitcase-also there to see someone off,

it seemed.

Mom made an excuse and left, giving us space.

Griffin didn’t try to block my path this time.

“I heard you’re going abroad for two years.”

“Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

A few short exchanges, and then we fell quiet.

He took a neatly folded piece of paper out of his pocket. The card from the Sync Game. My name was

still on it.

“These three years, I’ve wanted to change the answer.”

I didn’t take it.

“But then I realized-the moment you write an answer down, it’s already too late to change.”

Griffin gave a bitter laugh.

“Wren, I used to think you were the strongest of all of us, so you didn’t need much looking after. wasn’t until you left that I understood-being strong and not needing anyone are two different

things.”

“I’m not looking for forgiveness.”

“I just wanted to tell you, in person, that I know where I went wrong.”

He tore the card in half and dropped it in the trash bin beside him.

“Take care of yourself, out there.”

I nodded. “You too.”

Right before turning away, he suddenly asked,

“If the three of us had all written Poppy’s name that day, would you have stayed?”

I thought about it for a long time.

“Maybe.”

What had actually driven me away wasn’t a single game question.

It was finally seeing clearly that the question was just a snapshot of six years of choices.

Even without the Sync Game, there’d have been another graduation trip, another storage closet, another moment where giving up on me felt like the obvious thing to do.

Griffin’s eyes reddened, but he still smiled and stepped back.

“Goodbye, Wren.”

“Goodbye.”

This time, he didn’t make me wait for him. And I didn’t look back either.

After the two-year fellowship ended, I chose to stay on for a doctorate.

Beckett took over the family business. Julian became an architect. Griffin moved to another city.

Every once in a while, we’d catch glimpses of each other through mutual friends’ posts.

None of them ever reached out again.

The four of us who used to be inseparable finally became names in each other’s contacts that nobody disturbed.

Mom still messaged me every so often.

She stopped asking when I’d come home. She’d just send photos of the flowers blooming in the yard, or ask about the weather where I was.

When I had time, I’d reply with a few lines.

There was still a distance between us we couldn’t close. But we’d stopped pulling at each other over

Maybe that’s all I had left to give her.

Not forgiveness. Not revenge.

Just accepting that some things can’t go back to how they started.